


The Bakeneko

by ImpishBiscuit



Category: Cyberpunk 2077 (Video Game)
Genre: F/M, Fix-It of Sorts
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-01-21
Updated: 2021-01-21
Packaged: 2021-03-13 13:55:51
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 11,991
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28904481
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ImpishBiscuit/pseuds/ImpishBiscuit
Summary: V and Johnny adopt a cat who seems mostly normal.
Relationships: Johnny Silverhand & Female V, Johnny Silverhand/Female V
Comments: 10
Kudos: 128





	The Bakeneko

Even before V can finish reading the shard’s contents, she feels Johnny materialize behind her to rummage around in her backpack. “No,” she says, sighing. “It’s too early in the morning for this shit.” Unsurprisingly, he ignores her.

“Surely you have something in here he can eat,” Johnny says, “You steal everyone’s food on jobs all the time.”

“That food is supposed to be for me,” V says, not giving him the dignity of helping out. Johnny does not give up on his quest, and she crosses her arms and attempts to ignore him. It is only when he starts tossing packages of tofu jerky onto the ground that she drops her backpack off one shoulder, maneuvering it to her front and out of his grip. She snatches up the jerky to put it back into its rightful place as he slowly struts in front of her to glower through his aviators. “Really, Johnny?”

The engram continues to glare. “You’re a cruel woman, V. Who knows what’s happened to the little guy? You saw the shard.”

“It’s a stray. I’m sure it will be fine.” V swings her backpack back onto her shoulder and turns to head back home. She doesn’t get in more than three steps of progress before Johnny appears in front of her again.

“Feed the damn cat, V.”

“No.”

Johnny does not budge, continuing to stare at her through his damn sunglasses. Honestly, V is just impressed he could see her at all in these lighting conditions with them on. V sighs and brushes past him, bumping her shoulder against his chest to make a point and strolls around the corner to head home. Johnny appears in front of her door as she arrives, holding his arms to the doorframe to block the entrance into her own apartment. “You’re a heartless bitch.”

“Spare me, Silverhand.” V reaches around the engram to type in her keycode, and he makes no move to stop her. She has to lean down to squeeze through the gap between his arm and torso to get through the door. She wonders how she must look to passersby—huddled over despite nothing being there to warrant such posture. To her, Johnny is a solid presence. Her backpack jostles when it meets his torso as she slips past. Is the movement of the backpack only in her imagination? Or would her neighbors see it move as well, as if V had a ghost guarding her front door?

Well, they wouldn’t be exactly wrong in the latter case.

Said ghost is being annoyingly persistent today, appearing the center of the room as soon as she passes over the threshold and closes the apartment door. “V,” he says again, firmly. His arms are folded, and he has pushed his sunglasses up to fix her with what she assumes to be his best impression of a disapproving parent. “That cat is starving. Go back and give it food.”

“Cats are nearly extinct in Night City. No way is there one in this shithole of a megabuilding. You really think that terribly spelled shard is telling the truth?” V puts her backpack on the couch to begin the usual post-gig routine of sorting the things she had filched. Spare ammo in a pile next to the couch arm, random guns she could sell for eddies carefully laid out on the seats, a cluster of jewelry and junk on the ground.

She could feel the weight of Johnny’s gaze every time she added more food to the slowly growing heap on the coffee table. When she lays a final burrito atop the pile, the entire upper half of the mountain trembles, threatening to collapse. Johnny glitches over to appear next to it. He crouches and his silver hand reaches out to touch the pile, eyes never leaving V’s face. When she does not move, he flicks his wrist and knocks the pile over, food landing all over V’s new blue sneakers. Well. They were blue.

“Oops,” Johnny says, deadpan, “Honestly, it’s a fuckin’ miracle this never happened inside your backpack.”

“Thanks, Johnny.” V heaves a deep sigh. A stray wonton rolls off what is left of the pile and bounces off her foot. “Are you going to make my life hell until I feed this cat?”

“What do you think?”

“You know, I hear that this is what cats were like. Massive pains in the ass. Just like you.”

“If the cat comes back, you’ll see that for yourself. They’re cute, _just like me_ , you should like them.” The engram tilts his head, lips curled.

“I know what a cat looks like, Johnny.” V starts picking up the food and searching for chicken or something chicken flavored. “You’re, like, the opposite of a cat in terms of cuteness.” V holds up yet another burrito, frowning. “Can cats even eat synthmeat? That’s all I got.”

He shrugs.

Now it is V’s turn to glower. “Aren’t you just a bunch of code? Can’t you look this up? Make yourself useful for once?”

“Nope.” Johnny spins on his heel and starts pacing around the apartment. V cannot believe the sight she is seeing. He is practically bouncing. Was he actually excited for this? Happy over something that isn’t sex or watching V hurt herself in some embarrassing way?

All this over a fucking _cat_ that might not even exist?

V sorts the remaining food and grabs a paper plate upon which she will lay a great bounty of scavenged synthmeat. She tears open a burrito, a set of “chicken”-filled wontons, and an enchilada that covers her hand in red grease before she is satisfied with the amount of food. “Surely that’s enough for this mythical cat. Cats aren’t that big.” She frowns. “Right?” The last one she’d seen, some ugly naked thing near Vik’s clinic, hadn’t been very big, but she wasn’t sure if that was typical of the species. She can’t remember the last one she’d seen before that. Johnny had been around when cats were more common, so perhaps he’d have a better frame of reference.

“We’ll have to see, but it should be enough to lure him out.” Johnny glitches over to inspect the plate before nodding. “Okay, let’s roll.”

“This isn’t a gig, you know.” V has to use her elbow to open her apartment because her hands are fucking disgusting from that enchilada. “We’re just trying to feed a cat.”

“It’s the most important gig of your life and you know it.”

“More important than getting you out of my head?” Johnny gives her a side-eye in response to that one. She ignores him and put the plate next to where she found the shard. She puts her hands on her hips to admire her handiwork and immediately regrets it. First her shoes, then her hands, now her pants. She’s going to have to wash her everything as soon as this nonsense is done. “Now what? How long do I have to wait for this cat?”

Johnny leans against the wall. “Shard did say you could say ‘Pspsps’ and it’d come running.”

V is covered in more food debris that she’d like to think about. She’s pretty sure that she’s already getting stared at. “I’m not saying that out loud. I already look like a lunatic.”

“Ah yes, what ever will the neighbors think?”

“Look, I bet it’ll come regardless if I make that noise or not. After all, I put out only the world’s most gourmet food. Cat should love that shit. Should be able to smell it a mile away.” V gestures at the plate to make a point, then halts as she realizes something. “Johnny,” she says, voice low, “what exactly are we supposed to do if the cat shows up?”

He shrugs. “Pet it. Give it chicken. Send pictures to Judy. Adopt it. Something like that.”

V gives him a flat stare. “I’m dying. I’m not adopting a cat.”

Johnny tosses his hands up. “Hey, don’t say I didn’t warn you. You won’t be able to resist taking him home.” V snorts and wipes her hands on her already ruined pants.

“Fat chance with that one.”

“You’ll see.” Johnny says. V turns to look at him, but he has disappeared. Blissfully alone again, she walks back home.

Rather annoyingly, she remembers the theoretical cat of her own volition half a day later as she is returning from Judy’s late at night. She’s in pain. Her shoulder aches from the weird judo-shit Tom had done while testing out his combat shard. The Relic malfunction she’d had shortly afterwards isn’t helping matters either, the aftereffects still shaking through her body. Her vision is fuzzy, muscles weak, and there is an odd fluttering weakness near her heart that isn’t disappearing this time. Of course it is as she is limping the final stretch from the parking garage to her apartment that she remembers that she put out food for a damn cat.

The biggest headache in her life and glitches into existence as soon as she thinks this, bouncing on his toes again. “V,” he says. She levels him with a glare deeper than one from this morning.

“I’m not in the mood, Johnny.”

“Look, I know you look and feel like shit, but humor me this one time.” He crosses his arms, and she can see his eyebrows knit together in concern. Then he utters a word she thought he didn’t know. “Please, V.”

Perhaps it is the fact that she physically hurts or that she’s so caught off guard by _Johnny fucking Silverhand_ saying “please,” but she wavers briefly as she arrives at her apartment door. She could go inside if she just turned to the left. She could have a shower. She could eat the leftover yakisoba she’d been thinking about all day. She could rest for a few precious hours, and if she was lucky, maybe she’d even get a good amount of sleep tonight. But the “please” has elicited a moment of weakness, and it is then moment that she feels a trace of hopeful emotion spill over from what must be Johnny. She’s not used to such a balmy feeling from him.

“Damnit.” She limps past the doorway and continues towards where she put the plate down. She expects to see nothing but a cluster of roaches where the food was, but instead there is the same ugly naked cat from Vik’s clinic chowing down on her generous offering. Or is it really the same one? She hadn’t looked too closely at that one weeks ago, but maybe that one was pinker than the one in front of her now. It was definitely the same type of cat, at least, wrinkly and furless. “Well, holy shit.”

Johnny immediately glitches into view, smoking his ever-present cigarette and unable to keep still in apparent excitement. “Look! Hey look, see that? He is real, and you fucking doubted that shard.”

“I’ll admit, I was wrong,” V says, slowly advancing towards the cat. It ignores her approach and continues to eat the food. It had been nearly finished by the time she’d arrived, and it scarfs down the last shreds of synthmeat as she crouches down to inspect the animal more closely. This cat is pale over most of its body, but its face and paws are shaded darkly, matching the huge, satellite-dish ears that oversee its triangular face. Its eyes are enormous and the color of streetlamps. V won’t lie, it’s got a surprisingly wise and cute face for a naked animal, but the rat-like tail ruins it for her. It takes notice of her attention and meows at her.

“Go on, V, pet him.” Johnny is leaning against the nearby wall now, aviators fixed firmly on the cat and her.

“Fine.” She’s come this far already. She pets the cat. It feels the same way as the one by Vik’s—nearly hairless, not exactly naked, and warm and fuzzy like a real peach she’d once eaten as a small child. This cat feels the same, soft to the touch and warm. The animal bows down in a deep stretch before abruptly pushing its head into her hand again. Under her fingers, the cat rumbles. Vs’s eyes sting suddenly at the show of affection. She blinks quickly to try and clear them. Thankfully, Johnny remains silent for once in his digital life.

V sits and pets the cat for a few moments as she tries to collect her thoughts. Damnit. Johnny knew her too well when he’d idly suggested she adopt it. Before he says anything, she grabs the cat, clutching it to her chest. It continues purring and even licks at her jaw. Taking care to ignore Johnny even though he hasn’t said a word, V spins on her heel and marches back to her apartment. Once inside, the cat does not protest and only stares around with pricked ears at the new environment. Johnny isn’t here, or at least he’s not made himself visible yet—it’s only V and the cat.

The cat is filthy, grey gunk rubbing on her hand and clothes even from the brief contact so far. She’s going to need to bathe it. And, looking down at herself, she realizes she also needs a shower. Her clothes stick to her in an unflattering way. “No looking,” she calls to the empty apartment, setting the cat down long enough to strip. That done, she picks up the cat again and walks herself and the animal to the shower. It is only after she closes the door that she remembers that most cats aren’t supposed to like water. Doing a mental calculation of how many meds she had in the house in case of scratches, V places the cat down in the shower and turns on the water, bracing herself.

Much to her surprise, the cat does not panic at the feel of the water raining on its fuzz-covered back. It blinks to keep water out of its eyes and stares at her, tail moving from side to side in a slow swish. “Do you actually like this?” V asks the cat. The cat does not respond.

V shampoos herself first and then the cat. She isn’t sure if you’re supposed to use human shampoo on cats, but it isn’t like she has an alternative. She puts shampoo on a damp washcloth and rubs it slowly over the cat, careful not to drip subs into its eyes. It’s a lot more trusting that she would have expected for a stray and does not wriggle. V gently scrubs the cat until the water runs clean. “You’ll have to wait a few minutes while I finish washing myself, alright?” she says. The cat swishes its tail. She doesn’t know what that means, but she’s going to assume it means assent. The cat moves towards the back of the shower and out of reach of the spray before sitting and starting to lick a paw a few times before passing it over its absurd ears. Satisfied that the animal would be occupied, V returns to her own cleanliness. Once that is done, she quickly wraps her torso in one towel and her hair in another before scooping the cat up in a third. Again, it does not wriggle as she carries it outside the bathroom.

Johnny materializes as soon as she steps out. She raises an eyebrow and he holds his hands up in defense. “Hey, I didn’t peek,” he says, “Not like it would have made a difference anyway.”

She holds the cat out in response, presenting it like a towel-wrapped gift. “Here’s your cat. You wanted it; you take care of it.”

“I can’t take care of Nibbles—I can’t exactly control your body like this. He’s your responsibility for the time being.”

V gives him a baleful glare before depositing the cat and towel bundle in an empty laundry basket near the bed. The cat immediately resumes grooming itself, swiping its tongue down its flank vigorously. She didn’t think the shampoo smelled that weird, but apparently it offended the cat. “What did you call it?”

“Nibbles. That’s his name.”

“We are not naming the cat Nibbles.”

“Did you have any better suggestions?” Johnny flicks his cigarette away before glitching in front of the cat where he crouches to examine it. “There he is, V. Alive and well.”

“I see that, but I’m not calling it Nibbles.” V also bends down to inspect the cat. She will give Johnny this much—it is much cuter now that it is not covered in dirt, but it’s still weird and naked looking, as its peach fuzz is hardly visible. Is it trembling?

“You should dry him off more,” Johnny says, “Poor thing’s shivering. He’s hardly got any fur and you’re letting him freeze to death.”

“You’re both drama queens,” V snaps. Still, she rubs the cat with the towel again until it is less damp. “And I’m not calling it Nibbles. That’s a stupid name.”

“Not any dumber than ‘V.’ I mean, really, kid, what were you thinking?”

“It’s a better choice than my real name,” V replies, her throat suddenly tight. He’d better not go there.

So of course he did, rocking back onto his heels with a lazy grin. “Nothing wrong with Val--”

She slapped him. She’s surprised that she makes contact at all, really, but the blow connects. The sound rings out across the apartment and she has to shake her hand a little after the fact, her palm stinging from the hit. Johnny’s aviators are knocked askew and he has the gall to look amused as he removes them. The cat studiously ignores them, licking a paw.

“Never call me that,” V hisses, “You of all people should know why.” She’d been forced to see some of his memories, to feel fragments of his past, and the experience surely had to be mutual.

“And I think you should own your name,” Johnny says, leaning back and touching his cheek with his metal hand to either inspect the damage or soothe the wound. “It’s something you carry all your life. Be proud of it.”

V frowns. “I can choose my own name. What I want to be known by. I might not even be here much longer anyway. Bit late to change my name to something else. I’ve also got my reputation to think about. Only known as V to others; would be annoying as hell to try and change that at this point.”

Johnny snorts. “What reputation? Your first big heist, and you blew it. Ruined any reputation you’d had, especially because your choom got flatlined in the process.”

Her stomach twists in a way that has nothing to do with the Relic. “Don’t go there, Johnny.” She sits down properly now. Her towel is not as secure at she’d like, and it droops slightly from her chest. The movement of the fabric catches the engram’s attention, and his gaze drops to her chest. She practically snarls, “Do not. I’m not in the fuckin’ mood for this.”

He tilts his head, considering her for a moment before standing. “Alright,” he concedes, “If I’m stuck in your head, I can at least pretend to be nice sometimes.”

“You certainly aren’t actually nice,” V replies. When Johnny makes no movement or acknowledgement of what she’d said, she asks, “Can you just… go or something? Scram? Whatever it is you do? I’ll take the blockers if I have to, but in the spirit of peace, can you just fuck off for a bit?”

“Fine. I was getting tired of you anyway,” Johnny says, disappearing in a flurry of turquoise pixels.

At last alone, V buries her head in her forearms. Her headache had been getting better since the shower, but her conversation with Johnny brought it right back. She desperately wanted him out of her life. She’d said it herself, though—she might not even be here much longer anyway. In his current form, he was doing nothing but hurting her, and that was what sucked the most. They’d almost been getting along today and then he had made those comments and brought up things V would rather have not thought about. Tears start pricking the corners of her eyes and she makes no move to wipe them away.

_Meow_.

The cat is staring at her now, tail tip flicking. It wants attention, she thinks. V reaches out to the animal and it immediately rubs its head against her fingers and starts purring. “I know we just met, and I didn’t want you, but you like me, right?” The cat pauses in its rubbing to lap at her hand. Its tongue is surprisingly rough, but V can’t help but crack a smile at the sensation even though it hurts a bit. The stray at Viktor’s clinic hadn’t licked her, and it had been so long since she’d seen a cat before then. She’s forgotten what it feels like.

The roughness hurts, but it’s a fresh and sharp pain unlike the dull ache that seems to have taken permanent hold of her chest. It’s something new to focus on. And so, V sits in her mostly empty apartment, shivering in her damp towel and letting this ugly cat groom her until she feels better.

A week later, while spying over Arasaka Industrial Park, V is struck by another Relic malfunction. They’ve become more frequent as the weeks have passed, though at least this one is a comparatively mild beast. Sometimes, these are brought on by stress—perhaps she’s been sitting in the sun too long, staring at tiny men and women and robots far away. Nonetheless, she’s busy massaging her temples when her thoughts on her headache are interrupted.

“V.” Takemura’s voice is gravely at the best of times and downright grating when her head hurts from the Relic. “V. No sudden movements.”

She freezes in her position, leaning over the railing and trying not to retch, which would surely attract the attention of Arasaka guards. She feels like shit, vision swimming and a terrible cramp seizing through what must be all her muscles. It is easy enough to heed Takemura’s words as she heaves herself off the railing and to the ground. She doesn’t think she could move suddenly if she tried. Blinking the daylight out of her vision, she squints at where Takemura is pointing. Then she has to rub her eyes because surely this is a Relic hallucination. Is that her fucking cat?

“Do you see it?” Takemura of all people sounds _giddy_. V’s just speechless.

It’s pretty hard not to see your own goddamn cat sitting on a concrete ledge seven stories up. V has a lot of questions, the first of which being how in the bloody fuck the cat had gotten out of the apartment. She dearly wishes she couldn’t see it. This wasn’t even remotely safe for a cat and loathe as she is to admit it, she’s rather gotten used to coming home to the little guy and wants him to be safe. She dearly hopes that this isn’t her cat and instead one of his lookalike cousins that runs around the city, like the one at Vik’s.

Takemura must decide that her brain is fried from being in the sun too long due to her stunned silence and he clarifies, speaking slowly, “The cat.”

V fakes a cough. It isn’t difficult. “Yeah, he’s beautiful. I thought they’d all disappeared from the city.” Excepting the one that is supposed to be in her apartment, of course. Christ, the longer she looks at the thing the more she thinks this is hers. It’s hairless, or at least is only covered in the same peach fuzz as her cat, and it has the same dark markings on its face and ears as the animal that regularly drank the water that puddled from her showers.

Her companion is blissfully aware of her perplexment. “It is the first animal I see in Night City. Except cockroaches, of course.” He stares at the cat with adoring eyes, and V privately makes a pact to never let him in her apartment or her would never leave due to her cat.

“Why, V, I think that’s the smartest thing you’ve said all day, not letting that corpo rat into the house,” her ever-present parasite says, appearing with a fizzle to sit on the ledge besides their cat.

“Johnny, is that ours?” V asks, suddenly very glad that she can talk to him through thought alone.

“Your guess is as good as mine, but it sure looks like Nibbles.”

“How…?”

Johnny shrugs. Takemura turns to look at her, forehead wrinkling in concern. “V?”

Right. Two conversations to keep up with and her cat sitting on a ledge. “Yeah, cockroaches. They’re everywhere. You know, first it was the birds, then dogs, but cats—cats actually put up a fight longest.”

Takemura nods. Of course he knows this. There is a brief pause as he considers the feline who currently has his back turned to them. Fucker. The cat knows he shouldn’t be out of the apartment, V thinks, so of course he’s feeling guilty. He can’t even face her.

“Cats are incapable of feeling guilty,” Johnny says, helpful as ever. He leans forward to inspect the cat more closely. “Yeah, I think this is our guy.” He pinches the bridge of his nose. “Fuck.”

“Damnit.”

Johnny doesn’t get a chance to respond before Takemura ponders, “Perhaps it is a bakeneko?”

V has spent almost her entire life in Night City surrounded by Japanese culture and has never heard that word before in her life. “A ‘bakeneko?’ What’s that?”

“It is a cat spirit,” Takemura explains, “It brings misfortune and can restore the dead back to life.”

“Perhaps we should catch him, then, what with this.” V taps where the Relic is slotted. “He can be useful if we can’t get this thing out. Maybe he can restore me back to life.”

“Ha, ha. Very funny.” He makes no movement. “I wouldn’t dream of trying to catch a bakeneko.”

Well, there goes plan A of getting Takemura to catch her stupid cat for her.

V licks her lips, trying to think of what to do. The cat can’t possibly stay out here. Fuck, weren’t they supposed to raid the Industrial Park after this? She supposes if push comes to shove, she can lock the cat in Takemura’s van. Then again, if the cat is slippery enough to get out of the apartment, surely he can escape Takemura’s ancient car. “You think he might be a feline ghost? Ah, I suppose anything’s possible.”

Nodding sagely, Takemura explains, “My grandmother knew many, many stories about kitsune, kappa—bakeneko, too.”

“Do you think this old fuck’s grandmother would be able to tell us stories about how to catch our cat? He’s going to get himself hurt,” Johnny pipes up. He’s trying to be his usual obnoxious self, but V can tell the appearance of their cat in this spot has him rattled. He’s jiggling a foot up and down to the beat of something neither of them can hear.

“You know, I never thought I’d say this, but this would be a great time for you to not be dead,” V responds, “You could make yourself useful for once and catch him.” Belatedly, she realizes Takemura is waiting for a response. “So where’d you grow up, anyway?” Hopefully this will take him on a tangent while she and Johnny think of a plan.

“I am from the slums of Chiba-11. Once, when I was desperate to leave there, I…” Takemura shudders. “Egh, bad memories washed away by time. I long only for the simple days of childhood.” He’s struggling to get the words out, and unlike Johnny, she does care for him at least a little bit. She needs to help at least a bit with this conversation.

She forces some of her attention away from her stupid cat and towards Takemura with a last hiss to Johnny of, “Figure something out!” He throws his hands up, and she can’t say she blames him—what is a ghost supposed to do to get their cat off the ledge? To Takemura, she offers, “My childhood, let’s see…”

They chat for a little bit, Takemura talking seriously about subjects that V cannot really focus on right now. She’s too busy watching Johnny approach the cat, scooting forward to get closer. She has no idea what he plans to do, but she freezes when the cat looks up from grooming a paw to stare Johnny straight in the eyes and meow.

He can see Johnny?

“Fuckin’ hell,” Johnny murmurs before reaching out with his metal hand. The cat stretches his neck so he can rub on it with his large, triangular ears. The cat makes contact—V can see Johnny’s fingers ruffling the cat’s ears. “Holy shit.”

V can’t help it—she sputters, interrupting whatever Takemura is saying. He pauses and looks faintly alarmed and annoyed. “What is it?” he asks. His back is to the cat, so he can’t see what she’s seeing.

“Your bakenekos—can they see the dead? Like, can they see ghosts?”

He is puzzled by the sudden change of topic and looks where she is staring. She has no idea what he sees when he looks at the cat, but his face is guarded when he turns back. “V, have you been telling me the truth about your health? The Relic is not hurting you too bad?”

“Of course,” she lies.

“Hm.” He shifts in his seat before saying, “I think a bakeneko must be able to see spirits if it could bring them back from the dead.”

“Ah, that would make sense.”

Then, to her alarm, the cat shrugs Johnny’s hand off with a jerk of his ears and moves into a half-standing crouch. His tail-tip twitches, and V has seen that look before when he was about to leap from the bed and back into the laundry basket. The difference is, he is far above the ground here, and he does not have soft towels and old clothes to soften a fall. Takemura notices as well and chuckles. “The bakeneko must be getting sick of us. It will find its own way.”

“Yeah,” V says, breathless. The cat gives one last look at Johnny before lightly leaping off the ledge. V and Johnny’s eyes lock for a single panicked heartbeat before he launches himself off the ledge after the cat as well. She starts, stumbling to her feet.

“Are you alright?” Takemura asks, “I’m sure the cat is fine. He would not have jumped if he was not sure he would land safely.”

“I…” V’s throat has gone dry, and her thudding heartbeat for once has nothing to do with the Relic. “If you say so. I’m going to go check on him. Sorry. Excuse me.” And then she is brushing past Takemura and finding the nearest bit of scaffolding that can get her to the floor below. Thankfully, there is plenty of that in this half-finished building and she is able to drop to the next floor in hardly any time at all.

Johnny is already waiting for her, pacing and fiddling with his cigarette. “Where is he?” V demands.

He throws the cigarette away in irritation. It dissolves into a spray of blue pixels instead of landing on the floor. “I don’t know, V.” It is unusual to see Johnny this agitated for another being, V notes somewhere in the back of her head. “I went right after him and he was gone before I could even start to look for him. Fuck,” he swears, turning and grabbing at his head.

V has a horrifying thought, which of course is shared with him instantly. Together, they race to the side of the building where the cat had been and V nearly sends herself into the empty air with how hard she hits the half-wall lining the edge of the building. It is only Johnny’s rough grab of her shoulder that keeps her momentum from possibly taking her into thin air. V takes enough time to mutter, “Thanks,” before engaging her Kiroshi optics to scan the ground far below, searching for a tiny broken body. She hunts for a few moments, then breathes a sigh of relief.

Thank god. She doesn’t see anything yet, so she starts scanning whatever else she can see from her vantage point, yielding similarly fruitless searches. Groaning, she removes herself from the edge and sits on the ground heavily. Johnny practically flops down on the ground next to her, laying all the way back.

“I’m going to kill him myself when we get home,” he says, removing his aviators and massaging his eyes. Could brain parasites get headaches? Apparently so.

“I would ask how, but apparently you’re as real to the cat as you are to me,” V replies. She can feel pressure building in her head again; if she’s not careful, she will get another Relic malfunction sooner rather than later. “I still don’t know how the fuck he got out of the apartment. And across the city. And onto the ledge.”

“Your guess is as good as mine. But apparently Nibbles is a slippery bastard.”

“Hope he knows how to get down okay.”

“Fucker.”

“Don’t be mean to the cat.” Her headache is starting to fade again, but she thinks it best if she stays seated for a little while longer. “He’s smart. I’m sure he’ll be okay.” She pauses, hesitates. “Johnny?”

“What?”

“Do you think he’s a real? Or…?”

Johnny snorts as if he cannot believe he’s having this conversation with her. “Unless Takemura also has the Relic in his head, the cat’s real. You’re not losing your marbles that fast.” He reaches over to pat her leg. V can’t help but frown.

“So how did the cat see you then?”

He shrugs. “Don’t know. Maybe cats can see ghosts.”

“What if he really is a bakeneko?”

Now Johnny faces her properly. “I take back what I said about your marbles. You’re clearly losing it if you think that Arasaka lapdog was telling the truth about spirit cats.”

“But it makes sense, doesn’t it?” V knows she sounds ridiculous. “Like, you’re dead. Bakenekos would be able to sense that, like Takemura said. Cats are just animals. They can’t see ghosts or engrams.”

Johnny sighs, dragging a hand over his face. “I can’t believe I’m telling you this, but relax, V. You’re freaking out over nothing. People used to joke that cats could see ghosts and that’s why they were such weirdos. That doesn’t mean Nibbles is a bakeneko. We’ve just had the once-in-a-lifetime opportunity to test the theory about cats and ghosts. And apparently people were right.”

She is anything but soothed by this theory. “But this makes no sense.”

“And neither does Nibbles getting out of the apartment and seven stories up, but here we are.” When V does not move, Johnny pats her knee again. “Look. Go finish playing spy, get that malware onto that float, and go home. I bet you a cigarette that Nibbles will be waiting when we get home.”

Her heartrate is finally coming down to its resting rate. V nods at the engram and stands. “Fine. You’re on. If he’s there, then I’ll smoke one for you.”

He grins. “Atta girl. Might help you relax anyway.”

She pokes him with her toe, gentle for once, and steps over him to head back towards the scaffolding. Takemura looks both bemused and concerned as she climbs back up. “Did you see the cat?”

“No. It’s as you said—he’ll find his own way,” she replies, settling back down into her seat to watch the actions of the park for a few more hours. She tries to put her dumb cat’s dangerous activities out of her mind for the time being.

And then it’s nearly dawn before she has a chance to think about the damn cat again, dragging her exhausted body back up to her apartment. The plan had gone off without a hitch, but she’d been running on far too little sleep for too long and had taken a hard fall during the escape from the Industrial Park. She can feel the bruises already forming. She punches the keycode in for her door and stumbles inside.

There, sitting on the coffee table without a care in the world, is her stupid cat staring straight at her. He meows loudly and hops off, trotting towards her with his tail held high.

“Hey, buddy,” she murmurs, “Did you miss me or something?” He practically trills as she scratches along his back. “Don’t think you’re not in trouble—did you get out of here earlier? And go halfway across Night City?” The cat doesn’t answer her, though honestly with where he’d been earlier, she would only be so shocked if the cat started speaking English.

“See, he’s fine. Told you so,” Johnny says, appearing by the wall near her bed. His aviators are off, and he is staring at the cat with an inscrutable look on his face. Then, the cat twists around to look at him, obnoxious ears pricked, and he removes himself from V’s hands to approach Johnny. “Son of a bitch.”

“That’s no way to talk to the cat,” V says reflexively. Johnny gets a soft smile on his face before he reaches out for the cat. It’s a rare expression on him. The cat is apparently able to see the engram and wants scratches from him. “So, cats can actually see ghosts. I don’t have a good explanation for this.” Johnny just shrugs in response and sits down. The cat crawls onto his thighs and starts purring, rubbing on his chest. V doesn’t have an answer for how this happens, but she’s too tired to speculate at this point.

She watches the cat for a moment longer before remembering that he probably needs to be fed. She starts pulling out food from her backpack, pulling bits of synthmeat from her scavenged stash until she has a small pile on an old takeout bag. She probably should invest in proper cat food at some point, but that has not exactly been a priority as of late. The cat had been contentedly sitting on Johnny’s lap, but when she clicks her tongue, he comes running, giving a long and drawn-out meow.

“He says you’ve neglected him,” Johnny states.

V gets up to go wash her hands in the sink. “When did you learn to speak cat?”

“Back in cyberspace.”

“Didn’t know Mikoshi had a foreign language program for souls.”

He starts laughing at that. V bites her lip to stop herself from chuckling in kind, then gives up and starts giggling. Her laughs make him laugh harder and that sets her off. It’s one of those ridiculous laughing feedback loops and she can’t believe she’s doing this with Johnny Silverhand, of all people.

“You need to sleep,” he says much later, after she’s showered and sitting in bed, idly scrolling through her holo. “Your thoughts are making even less sense than usual. You’re tired.”

She flips him off. He suddenly appears next to her in the bed, sitting cross-legged. “I’m serious, V.” The cat pauses in his play with a pillow to stare quizzically at them before leaping back on the cushion with vigor. “I still can’t get over the fact that this cat can see me.”

“I don’t get it either.” Much as V hates to admit it, Johnny’s right about her need to sleep. “Move, you lump.” He’s sitting on the blankets and ignores her request, so she is forced to shove his legs out of the way so she can crawl beneath the covers. “Happy now?”

“Very,” he replies drily.

V rolls her eyes and turns off the lights. Now that it is quiet, she can think about tomorrow’s parade and the level of risk involved. She’s got a sinking feeling about it and she can’t figure out why. A thought nags at her. “Johnny?”

“What?”

“You’ll be there tomorrow, right? During the parade?”

“Don’t have much of a choice.”

“If something goes south… will you be there to help?”

There is far too much silence before he replies, again far softer than usual, “Of course.” This is enough for her, and she finally starts to drift off. The last conscious thought she has is that she’d forgotten about the cigarette from their bet, and that Johnny hadn’t pushed her about it.

Of course, everything goes tits up after that.

V’s lungs won’t stop burning nowadays, like she’s constantly smoking cigarettes even though she hasn’t touched one in months, and the fluttery weakness near her heart has become stronger and ever-present. Her chest _aches_ even when she is doing nothing but crouching in the shower and letting hot water wash over her and steam fill her lungs. Her days with the Relic are numbered—she can’t take this much longer. It’s gotta get out, and soon, or she’s not going to make it. She texted Hanako earlier that she’ll be ready to meet tomorrow—and that’s it, she thinks. She hopes this gonk-brained plan to get the Relic out works.

So of course she’s afraid. She’s not been _not_ afraid since the surprise attack after they caught Hanako. Even Johnny had been afraid and shown genuine fear and concern for her. V’s chest tenses as if she’d done some great exertion even though she’s currently lying in her bed sleeplessly. She coughs and coughs and coughs, trying not to think about the blood she’s spitting up.

The cat, having taken over her pillow, takes a moment to open his eyes and stare at her. He doesn’t show concern on his face, but then again, he’s not the most facially expressive creature. She has to admit that he’s really grown on her. He never judges her for the quality of the food she brings him, and he greets her when she comes home. It feels good to be loved, even if only by an animal. She doesn’t know of anyone else who has that same affection for her.

There is the characteristic fizzling sound of Johnny appearing to stand beside the bed. “And I don’t count?”

V grins in spite of the coughing fit it causes. “You don’t have a choice not to like me. You’re stuck with me.”

“Damn straight.”

The cat decides that V and Johnny are no longer interesting and shuts his eyes again, ears relaxing slightly. V’s breath catches at the sight. “So, you were right about the cat. It was a good idea to feed him.”

“I never thought I’d hear those words. ‘Johnny, you were right and I was wrong.’”

“Don’t expect to hear them again,” she warns. He chuckles, a warm sound. “Johnny?”

“Yeah?” He steps closer to her now. If she shifts an inch to the right, she’d be pressed up against his metal arm.

“The thing with Hanako… If things go south and— you know, just in case you get my body, can you promise me something?”

She can only see him at the edge of her vision, but that is enough for her to see him take a deep breath and remove his aviators. “Yeah,” he says, “Anything you want.”

V nods at the cat. “Take care of him for me if I don’t make it back. And find some real chicken for him sometime, not just the synthetic shit.”

“That’s a tall order. Real chicken? In Night City? I don’t know how many eddies I’d have to pay to get that.”

“I give you full permission to use any and all of my funds for the betterment of the cat,” V says. Johnny laughs quietly in response to this, but it doesn’t sound like there’s any humor in it. Then, movement from him—he circles his metal arm around her shoulders and tugs her until she is leaning against his torso. This shouldn’t feel real, V thinks idly, but here she is. Dying with a ghost at her side that she can touch and a cat that can see said ghost. Johnny runs his thumb along her shoulder. It feels good.

“V,” he says after a moment, quiet, “Do you want to make a will? I didn’t get a chance to, and I wish I had.”

She considers this. “You know, I hadn’t thought of that, but I suppose so.” There’s a notebook on the other end of the bed, and she reaches forward enough to snag it and a pen before leaning back. “Let’s formalize this thing about the cat, then.”

Like she’d told Johnny, she hadn’t thought about this before, writing a will. Hadn’t dared to give her own mortality this much of a thought. She’s never looked death this much in the face before, not like this. Perhaps some part of her had thought she’d die before Jackie, or that Misty and Vik could handle her affairs. But now, this seems too much to thrust onto them, especially after everything that’s happened. She starts scribbling in earnest.

“You think Panam’s going to even want your cars?” Johnny asks, incredulous as he watches her write. “She’s too attached to her own.”

“Then she can sell them or something.” V thinks for a moment before adding an addendum. The Porsche would be Johnny’s. Always had been, anyway, she’d just been borrowing it.

As she writes, a pattern emerges. Some stuff would go to Panam, some to Judy, the occasional thing to Vik, but the majority? Johnny would be getting her eddies, whatever remained of her apartment lease, the cat, the black and yellow motorcycle she’d saved for ages to be able to afford. “You can think of me when you ride it,” she tells him, though she knows he thinks it is a death trap.

“You’re so kind,” he replies in such an unenthused voice that she can’t help but giggle. The change in angle from sitting upright to leaning on him has lessened the burden on her chest and she does not cough for once. It does not take much longer for her to finish the will—she doesn’t have much—and she signs it with a flourish before sticking it under the notebook, corner poking out. It should be easy enough to find, just in case.

“I was serious, though, back in the hotel. If I can’t keep this up, or if something happens then the body’s yours. I don’t know how much longer I can keep going like this,” V says. She knows in her gut that it is her time soon if they can’t get this Relic business dealt with.

And no number of cats or ghosts or engrams or what have you can change the fact that her body is breaking down while she’s at the helm.

Johnny doesn’t respond immediately, hand tightening on her shoulder. “I know, V. But it’s not going to come to that.”

Neither of them speaks after that. They sit in silence until V drifts off to sleep, head laying on what precious little space remains of the pillow the cat is sitting on. The only lights in the apartment are the phantom glow of Johnny’s cigarette and the cat’s streetlamp-colored eyes. The cat stares at Johnny unblinkingly, and he stares right back.

During what is possibly V’s last night on Earth, it is quiet.

It doesn’t end up quite being her last night, but her prediction wasn’t too far off. After Vik’s confirmation that _yes_ , she is dying, she finds herself stumbling into the back alley behind his clinic to try and get to Misty. She has to grab at a bit of railing to keep herself from toppling over. She catches her breath, chest heaving, and then she feels the sensation of a skinny, nearly naked tail winding itself around her legs. She feels awful enough that she can’t even muster up surprise and only reaches down to pet what she’s fairly sure is her cat, who has apparently gotten out of the apartment and across town again. He meows at her and stretches on his hind legs to bump his cheek against hers.

“Oh, he likes you,” Misty says, sounding pleased and surprised.

“Glad someone does,” V replies. Her voice comes out scratchier than normal. The cat does not seem to mind—then again, apparently he can teleport and see ghosts, so she doesn’t see why he would mind that. “Does he have a name?”

Johnny has been ever-present since Embers, and she feels his mind nudge hers now to whisper, “It’s Nibbles, V.” Even weeks after getting the cat, she refuses to call the cat this, so she hopes Misty has a better name for him.

“That’s Mr. Brightman,” the other woman says as cheerfully as one could in this situation.

“Ah. Of course.” The cat shall remain nameless, then.

“We found the poor guy in the trash behind the clinic. I think he misses Jackie.”

We all miss Jackie, V thinks towards the cat. He purrs, but V thinks that’s due to her scratching of his ears. They’re so big, and he spends so much time grooming them back at the apartment. It must feel good to him, and perhaps he’s just happy to have someone else doing the work for once.

And then, all too soon, she has to leave the cat behind. Even if Johnny can’t take care of him, or if her body breaks down fully before she can get the Relic out, she’s now confident that Misty and Vik will feed him. They gave him a stupid name—he is every bit as much theirs as hers. He will be loved. She leaves the cat behind in the alleyway and ascends to the top of the building where she will meditate on what to do next.

Every time V goes into cyberspace, she thinks the same thing. Falling into cyberspace is like falling asleep, like a weighty plunge without a stop at the end. It feels both real and not real, like the strangest of half-dreams, and there’s no telling what actually exists in this world and what she has summoned into being.

And her mind must have fallen back to the last time she was at Misty’s, for she opens her eyes in the elevator to her rooftop. When the doors open with a soft ding, she finds that though Johnny is not here, she is not alone. Her cat sits, waiting for her in the same manner he always waits for her to come home from gigs.

“Hey, you,” she coos. The cat meows back and presses against her ankles. “Are you here to help me get to cyberspace?” Alt must be waiting, but she can spare a few seconds to give the cat a long scratch down his back. She gives him extra scratches just before his tail, one of his favorite spots, and the cat turns to rub her hand with his cheek.

She’s going to miss him if she doesn’t see him again. She dearly hopes that’s not the case.

And when she arrives at the rooftop— _Jackie_. He’s there, but he isn’t. He calls her _chica_ with the same strong undercurrent of affection he’s shown everyone in his life, but it isn’t him. It sounds like him, and he moves like Jackie did, but she can tell it isn’t real. The cat, though, continues to press against her. He is the only reassuring thing in this moment. She reaches for Jackie but before her fingers make contact, he dissolves and the world becomes both familiar and alien.

Right. Back to cyberspace proper, with its endless fields of blue and black. She looks down for the cat, but he, too, is gone now. Perhaps he was only meant to get her through the worst part. She takes a deep, shuddering breath, tries to ignore her shattered heart, and starts walking.

Alt’s voice guides her towards a pillar of light, reciting poetry that sounds familiar to V, as if from another life. Though the cat is gone, V can’t help but relax the tiniest bit. For the first time in a long time, her mind is not humming with tension. Her muscles feel like she’d finally slept and come away rested. Even though she knows what is to come, she can’t help but jog, then sprint towards the pillar. She feels so lightweight—is this what dying feels like? Like being free again? Or is this just what it feels like to be finally living again, with the Relic’s influence finally gone?

She jogs up a set of stairs, and then she sees Johnny standing in front of the light, watching it and apparently waiting for her. She trots up to him and grabs his shoulder. “Hey,” she says, suddenly shy. He turns, smiles at her.

“You look good, kid.”

“Because I feel good. Our plan—it worked! I’m gonna fuckin’ live!” She wouldn’t feel this good otherwise. She hadn’t felt this way the last time she was in cyberspace—the Relic had managed to be a constant presence in her head then.

Johnny’s aviators are on even in cyberspace, so she can’t quite see his eyes, but his voice is full of genuine pride. “Gotta admit, you cobbled together a good plan.”

She can’t help it—she has to hug him at that. “You’ve been an absolute pain in the ass, Johnny, but I do owe you one thing. Day to day, with you by my side, I learned to kick down barriers, Now, nothin’ can hold me back. I can feel it.”

Because she’s held against his chest, his laugh rumbles through her body. “Is that so? Are you ready, then?”

“Have been since day one,” she says. They separate; Johnny ruffles her hair, walks towards a table and couch that were not there before. He sits, kicking his feet up. V sits as well, sitting with her hands clasped. “Where is Alt? When’s she going to do this?”

Johnny explains that Alt already hit her with Soulkiller, and V—V doesn’t know what she’d expected. She knew that Alt would have to untangle their minds somehow, and it made sense that the inventor of Soulkiller would use it in this way, but V had not fully comprehended exactly how the AI would go about untangling the two of them. The wild energy that had been pulsing through her has abruptly stilled at this news, and she starts to get a sinking feeling in her stomach. She doesn’t get the chance to really digest the fact that she is now an engram like Johnny before the AI herself appears in a flutter of red pixels.

And then—Alt drops the mother of all difficult news onto them.

V’s body is really dying, even with the Relic’s influence gone. Her immune system has been attacking her own nervous system and that meant her own brain would no longer accept her mind as a host.

V is going to die. It is not longer an if, but a when. Suddenly, it is as if she can feel the weight of her real body weighing her down even through cyberspace, almost as if frost has crept over the edges of her mind and sunk curved claws into her. She is at once both numb and in pain. No, not pain, but shock, she thinks distantly.

If she keeps her body, she dies.

Fuck.

“Check again, damnit.” Johnny’s voice sounds far away even though she knows he is just on the other side of the table.

“I’m sorry,” Alt says, “But there is nothing I can do. However, your body will not reject Johnny’s construct. At this point, they are compatible. It is his.”

V is suddenly standing, and she is not sure how. She makes it two steps beyond the table before collapsing onto the ground. She hears Johnny tell Alt to give them a minute. “I can’t believe it. Everything. All we did—it was pointless.” She can’t look at anything but her own hands right now. She doesn’t want to face Johnny. “All those people back there—Saul, Teddy, everyone—they all died for nothing.”

Johnny glitches in front of her and summons a chair. He sits on it backwards so he can rest his arms and head on the seatback. “They didn’t die for nothing.”

“They died for me, and I’m going to die no matter what we do,” V says. She hasn’t started crying yet, isn’t even sure she can cry here, but her voice sounds rough anyway. “May as well have been for nothing.”

He rubs at the bridge of his nose and spits out, “Fuck, V, tell me you’re joking.”

“What is there to joke about? People died for my sake, Johnny, and even if I climb back into my body right now, I’ve got a death date.” She sniffs. It’s undignified as fuck, but she can’t really bring herself to care right now. “You should just take the body. Pretend you’re me or something. Something so they don’t think they did everything for nothing.”

Suddenly, Johnny’s chair is gone and he is standing again. He holds out his silver hand. V hesitates, then takes it, allowing herself to be tugged to her feet. She’s too weak to stand on her own, though, and Johnny catches her before she can fall. “V, I couldn’t pretend to be you if I tried. Someone would figure it out instantly. Wouldn’t do your hair right.”

She laughs at that, a choked one.

“I don’t want to pretend to be you,” Johnny continues, “I can’t do you justice.”

V nods, blinking rapidly and trying to take measured breathes. “What will happen to me? If you take my body?”

There’s a fizzle as Alt reappears. “I will take V with me beyond the Blackwall. She will become part of me. Her conscience will continue on.”

V’s not sure she likes the sound of that.

Johnny frowns, holding her forearms until he is sure she is steady enough. “Alt,” he says, “Is there really no other option?”

“I do not see one.”

His frown grows deeper in response to that. This close, V can see every furrow around his eyes and between his brows as he thinks. “What if we put V’s engram on a Relic? And then had that take over her own body, like mine did?”

Would that even be possible? V doesn’t have time to hope before Alt cuts in with, “We do not have one available, and I do not think her body would tolerate that for a second time.”

V doesn’t like the look in Johnny’s eyes. “So, hear me out,” he says to both Alt and V, “What if I get the keys to her body and get it fixed up in the meantime? All the brain damage and shit. Would V be able to go back then? We could just pop me out and put her back in, and since we’re both already engrams, you could do that. Just like you could do now.”

Alt hums. “That is not a path I have considered. It would be possible, but it would not be easy. The longer V stays here, the more difficult it will be for her to return, and the damage is significant.”

“Johnny was able to stay out here for fifty years,” V rasps, “And he was fine.”

“Johnny had a physical link—the Relic. Without one, you will be without a tether, and your connection to the physical world would be tenuous at best. I could not guarantee your ability to remain here for long if you are to remain a free construct without such a tie.”

“How long do you think you could keep her here?” Johnny asks.

The AI considers this for a moment. “Approximately six months. As I said, the longer she stays like this, the more difficult it will be to return her into a physical form. She will also have to find her own way back into her body when the time comes, which would complicate matters.”

He nods. “And if I found another host for my psyche, could I tolerate another transfer? So V could have her body back?”

“If you could find a compatible one, yes. In the situation you are describing, I believe I could transfer your psyche to another body and V’s back to her own. But without a Relic, you would not be able to take over any other body like you did before. It would have to be a perfect match from the beginning.”

“And getting another Relic would mean a deal with ‘Saka, and I’ll pass on that.” Johnny snorts. “I’ll be looking for a real needle in a haystack, won’t I?”

Alt says nothing, which gives him all the answer he needs. Satisfied that V won’t collapse at this point, Johnny releases her and begins to pace. Without a cigarette in his hands, the gesture looks naked. “Fuck.”

Fuck indeed. V glances to Alt. “Would this work? This soul-swap?”

“I cannot know definitively until then. With all known variables now, there is a possibility,” she says, “But your body needs much repair before then. If it is able to recover enough, then it may happen. You may never regain full strength, however.”

“But would I die soon after?”

“I cannot answer that. But there is a chance you may live a normal lifespan.”

“What if I can’t fix her body in time?” Johnny asks, looking up from his pacing.

“At that point, I will take her with me,” Alt replies.

Johnny finally stops pacing, back turned to her and Alt. He places his hands on his hips and sighs. “V.”

“Yeah, Johnny?”

“I want to try this. But I won’t unless you give me the go ahead.” He still won’t look at her. “The decision’s yours.”

“This is a choice you have earned,” Alt supplies.

V takes a deep breath. Despite everything that has transpired, she can at least take a breath without coughing here. If she stayed here for a while, she does not think she would be in pain, at least. “Yeah,” she says, “Go for it, Johnny.”

He spins around and crosses the space between them in a heartbeat to sweep her up into a hug intense enough that she is lifted off the ground. His ‘ganic hand strokes her hair as he buries his face in her shoulder. “I’m gonna come back for you, you hear?” he says into her jacket. “I’m not letting you die on me. Not this time.”

V just holds on, fingers grabbing at his tank top, his shoulder, anything. “Take care of my body for me, okay? I wanna…” The words are impossible to get out. “You’ve already saved my life once. How am I supposed to repay you for doing it twice?”

She can feel his smile against her neck. “Stay put right here where I left you and come back when the time comes. That’s how. Don’t get up and wander somewhere that you can’t come back from.”

“Wouldn’t dream of it,” V replies. He chuckles.

Loosening his grip on V, Johnny pulls back just far enough to look V in the eyes before pressing his forehead into hers. Their breaths mingle for a moment before he moves to press a kiss to V’s forehead. Despite their being in a place where both of them are no more than data, the kiss feels real. “I’m coming back for you,” he murmurs against her forehead, “I promise.”

“I believe you.”

Then, to the AI, “Alt. What now?”

She gestures to her right, where a well has appeared. “Climb down into this well to return to V’s body. V will remain here.”

Johnny takes a deep, shuddering breath and separates himself from V. “Okay.” He does not fully release his hold on her, though, and his human hand tangles with hers. “Walk with me?”

V nods, not trusting herself to speak.

The walk to the well is too short, only a mere few steps away, but V swears her heart is about to pound out of her chest with every footfall. Johnny releases her hand to climb in, but before he climbs too far down, he reaches for her again. His thumb strokes her wrist. “I’m coming back for you,” he says. Then, he lets go of her and falls backwards into the well. The darkness swallows him up far faster than is natural. He is gone.

V slides off the well. She is numb. She is more alone than she has been in a long time. No Jackie, no Johnny, no cat.

Alt materializes next to her. She continues to hover above the ground. After so long this deep in the Net, she has likely forgotten how to be human, V realizes. But she is at least trying to make herself seem less intimidating, clasping her hands in front of her. Eventually, Alt speaks. “You have changed him.”

That confuses V. “I don’t know what you mean.”

“Many years ago, he would not have asked permission before running off on a rescue mission,” the AI says.

“I see,” V says. She isn’t sure what to make of that.

Alt waits a few moments more before saying, “You will need to stay here. This is a transitional area. This is neither mortal ground nor beyond the Blackwall. You will be safe here for a time. I will make sure of it.”

“For Johnny?”

“For you.”

V wraps her arms around herself. “Okay. Thank you, Alt.”

She hums again, then gestures back where the couch and table were still sitting. “Rest. You have had a long journey here. And do not worry—time passes differently here, and it will not feel like six months. But you will still be waiting for some time.”

“Think you could bring me some of that poetry while I wait?”

If V looks very closely, she can perhaps see the ghost of a smile on Alt’s face. “Of course.”

V picks herself off the ground and makes her way over to the couch. She lays down hesitantly. “Alt? Can I sleep here? In cyberspace?”

“I have not tried. But you may try.” And so, V closes her eyes and finds herself drifting off.

And she sleeps.

And she waits.

She has completely lost track of time in every sense when Alt suddenly appears. It could have been hours, days, months—V does not know. Her mind is heavy and sluggish now. Part of her knows this is a kindness of Alt’s—making her unaware of how long she has been here, so she cannot know when time is running out. “V,” Alt greets.

“Hey, Alt,” V replies, raising a hand and trying to blink sleep from her eyes. “What’s the occasion?”

“Johnny has almost achieved success,” Alt says, and suddenly the heaviness is removed from V’s mind. V can’t help but gasp at the sensation and the news.

“Really? When’s that happening?”

“Very soon.” Alt pauses for a heartbeat as V scrambles upright, dusting nonexistent dirt off her pants. “But you have your own journey to complete.”

V pauses. “What do you mean?”

“As I said, you will have to find your own way back. I cannot guide you there yourself, as I will be helping transfer Johnny’s engram, then I will be helping with your transfer. I cannot do all of these things at once.”

Gnawing her lower lip, V crosses her arms. “Then, how am I supposed to find my way back to my body?”

“I do not have an answer for you. But if you walk this way,” Alt gestures to her right, “you may find it. You will know when you do.”

“Fuckin’ reassuring,” V mutters, but she looks in the direction Alt pointed. It is nothing but the sheer expanse of cyberspace, with nothing resembling landmarks. When she looks back to the AI, she is gone. “Great.”

With no other guidance apparently coming her way, she starts walking. She hasn’t walked this much in—well, she doesn’t know, really.

Every part of cyberspace looks the same, or maybe it’s just this part of the Net, this purgatory area. What would happen if she were to stop? To throw herself into one of the rivers of data that flow around her? Would it take her back to her body?

She doesn’t know, but all she can do is walk forward. She prays Alt gave her accurate instructions.

She’s convinced herself that she’s gotten lost somehow when there is a sound. V can’t quite catch it, so she stops and strains her ears, hoping to hear it again.

_Meow_.

“You’ve gotta be fuckin’ kidding me,” V says. Fading into being in front of her is her stupid cat, sitting peacefully with his naked tail wrapped neatly around his paws. V herself and Alt were colored red, and the space around her is blue and black. But this cat? He is stained silver and stands out like the moon on a summer night. His eyes glimmer like starlight. “How the hell are you here?”

The cat meows at her again before prancing over to sniff her ankles and rub on them with his triangular head. V hesitates before crouching down to stroke his back, his ears, any part that he lets her touch. Apparently, the cat missed her, for he purrs like one of Panam’s cars and laps at her cheek. “Thanks, buddy,” V says, “Love you too.”

Far sooner than V would have liked, the cat apparently tires of her affection and begins walking away, tail held high. V recognizes that body language—that’s what he does when he wants her to follow him so she can feed him. “I don’t have any chicken for you here,” she calls. The cat does not change its trajectory, and she is forced to jog after him.

The cat sets a quick pace and does not look back at her. Distantly, V thinks that he must be able to hear her footsteps—his ears are every bit as big in cyberspace as they are in the real world—and so of course he wouldn’t need to check to see if she’s following. He would just know.

She doesn’t know whether she is jogging for a few minutes or an hour, but it doesn’t feel like long before they arrive at a familiar looking well. The cat alights to the wall surrounding the well and begins grooming himself, dragging his rough tongue over a peach-fuzz covered paw. He must have led her back to her body, V realizes. He was how she found her way. “Thank you,” she says to the cat. He swipes his paw over his face a few times before meowing at her again. V takes the hint and scratches him under his jaw. The animal leans into the touch, purring. Eventually, the cat pulls away and stares at her.

It must be time. V climbs into the well. The cat watches her do it without making a sound. A thought from a conversation long ago crosses her mind. Takemura had said that a bakeneko could restore the dead back to life. He had named this cat as one. “Are you a bakeneko?” she asks her cat. Unsurprisingly, he does not respond, instead staring at her as if waiting for her to do something interesting. Strange, she thinks, that even here, the cat has golden eyes. “Thank you,” she says again to the cat, and then V lets go and falls backwards into the well.

**Author's Note:**

> I got Nibbles very early on in my playthrough of the game, and this fic was partially inspired by that. I also found the game's use of religion and culture to be fascinating, so I thought it would be interesting to merge that usage with the apparent spirit cat--and thus, this was born.


End file.
